Reality is Finally Better Than Dreaming
by SerenityWritesSlash
Summary: AU. Jean is an antisocial mess who's just been rejected by the love of his life. Marco's a happy-go-lucky freckleface with big ambitions to be an actor. Their friendship miraculously carries them through the most stressful time in both their lives: the end of their senior year. Threeshot, slow-building JeanMarco.
1. Heartbreak

**_A.N: This is an idea I've had for awhile, and I just really wanted to write JeanMarco, so...here we go. A high school AU. YEAH. _****_I just needed a story about a jerky lazybones and a drama geek nice-guy becoming bros and eventually finding love (it sounds less cheesy in my head)._**

**_There will be lots of fluff, a bit of angst, future half jokes, and much more! I'll stop blabbering now._**

* * *

_CHAPTER ONE:_

_Heartbreak_

* * *

Jean had white knuckles.

Today was the day, yes sir, today was _the_ day. He was finally doing it. He was going to tell Mikasa just how he felt. Outside of the big house she lived in with her foster brothers, Eren and Armin, Jean stood on the doorstep, gulping away his fear. _I should've brought flowers_, Jean thought, as his hands shook violently. _I did not prepare for this._

But he had prepared, he'd been preparing since he first met her.

It all started when he noticed her in his History class. She had been staring out the window, her posture was perfect, her hair was long and black. Bored, Jean sketched on some scrap paper, using her as a model. She hot, beautiful even, and he loved drawing girls with hair like hers, that flowed down to her back.

And then, much to Jean's surprise, she came to school the next day with that lovely hair cropped short, right to her chin. It was like she had _sensed_ him staring at it from the back of the class, and wanted to prove she still looked good without it. Jean was speechless, at first losing his faith in humanity. But then, he sketched her again, this time he really looked at her, and not her hair.

Soon, Jean was crushing on her like a virgin schoolgirl, two things he certainly was not.

Armin, the smart, blond boy who's grandfather had taken Eren and Mikasa in as children, noticed Jean's staring and agreed to help him out. They soon became close friends, and Jean even got a job at a coffee shop thanks to Armin's reccomendation.

With Armin's help, he had earned Eren's blessing, though that hadn't been easy. Eren was emotional, confident, and motivated, pretty much all the things Jean wasn't, and that pissed him off. They butted heads all throughout sophmore year, until, finally, Jean stuck his neck out for Eren when he had gotten into a bad fight at school, taking the blame.

And that brings us to the present, nearing the end of the semester of Jean's senior year of High School, where he stood on Mikasa's porch, hands shaking.

Finally, he sucked in a breath, and rang the bell.

It was Mikasa who opened the door, her face slightly red from her workout, and she was only wearing a tight undershirt, which clung to her six-pack that Jean openly marveled at. God, she was sexy.

"Jean?" She blinked, her dark eyes widening in curiousity. "Did you come here for Armin?"

Jean cleared his throat, trying to calm his heart (which had decided to beat as much as a bad rap song). "No, I, uh... I came here for you."

She straightened up, surprised. "Oh. Alright, what is it?"

Suddenly, the embarrassment vanished, and Jean let out a shaky breath. "Well, I..." He trailed off, not wanting to come across as creepy.

"Mikasa Ackerman, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on." Jean began, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "I've had this huge crush on you since I first saw you, and at first, I thought it was just because you had beautiful hair, but then I got to know you." He met her eyes, which were regarding him with an unidentified emotion.

"You're smart, you're strong, and you are the most amazing person on this goddamn planet." Jean said, feeling himself slip into a smile. "And I would really like it if you would consider going on a date with me."

Mikasa looked at him, the usual pokerface replaced with an expression of disbelief. She glanced over her shoulder, then stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

"Jean," she said calmly, looking at him with a soft gaze. "I had no idea."

He blushed, ducking his head. "Well, y'anno, I couldn't ask you out before I knew for sure that I liked you so much, so..."

Mikasa smiled at him with a sadness, and Jean felt his embarrassment vanish.

"If you really care about me, can I trust you with something?" Mikasa turned her gaze to his, and it was sharp and pleading. Jean nodded, knowing that whatever it was, he could handle it.

She looked nervously at the ground, biting her lip. "Jean, I can't date you. Not because I don't like you; you're a wonderful person. But I'm... I'm _gay_."

He blinked, "Oh."

"Yeah," she chuckled, and then let out a squeak when he pulled her into a tight, bear hug. "Jean, what are you-?"

Jean tightened his grip, because this was the only time he'd really hold her. At least he'd told her. At least she _knew_. "It's okay," he told her, "It's okay."

And she started to cry; brave, solid Mikasa, started to cry into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing like she hadn't her whole life. And Jean let her. He let her bawl her eyes out, he let her fingers dig into his back, because he was doing something for her.

Right now, Mikasa needed him. That was all he'd ever wanted.

...

The next morning, Jean went to work with a dead look in his eyes. His co-barista, Berthold, gave a startled leap when he saw his expression, which was surprising, since he hung out around Annie Leonheart, Queen of the dead-inside-gaze.

Levi, Jean's boss, actually smacked him upside the head. Well, given the height difference, all he could manage was a slap at Jean's neck. "You'll scare away the customers," he hissed. It was his way of showing concern, Jean supposed.

Jean frowned at him, "This is coming from the man who glares at everything."

Levi smacked him again, and Jean promptly got back to work.

His chest felt numb, his eyes were warm, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Jean's head swirled with thoughts of Mikasa, which pinched his heart, because she was really out of reach. He had no chance with her, and he would have to accept this.

He delivered coffee with a somber expression, stirring latte after latte, eventually getting so exhausted that he asked Levi if he could leave is shift early.

To his surprise, Levi cleared him, seeming to understand he didn't feel well. Maybe there was a heart in there, after all.

He walked home, his legs feeling like goop. All he wanted to do was lie down, and maybe draw something. Thinking about drawing made Jean stop in his tracks, because he had countless of sketchbooks and pages just of Mikasa.

He groaned, leaning against the nearest building. Every part of him ached, and his head felt like it was about to explode.

"Oh my god, Jean, are you okay?!" The familiar voice of Sasha rang in his ears, and Jean forced himself to look up. She was looking at him like a worried mother, rushing over quickly. The boy she'd been walking with paused, his eyes widened upon seeing Jean's slumped over figure.

"Hey, Sasha." Jean greeted, shaking slightly. "I'm just a bit... tired, is all."

She furrowed her brows, "Bullshit!"

Jean winced; she had been his neighbor for years, he wasn't going to get anything past her. The guy who she'd been with scrambled over, his arms full of grocery bags. "Sasha, he looks exhausted." The stranger had black hair, and lots of freckles all over his face and arms. His eyes were warm and brown, like peanut butter.

Jean slumped a bit more, "Who's this?"

"Jean, this is Marco. We're in the drama club together at school. Marco, Jean." Sasha introduced, her eyes still weary.

"Wish I was in better shape to meet you, but I've got a killer headache right now." Jean started to grin, standing up straight. His legs decided right then it was convienient to give out, and he stumbled into Marco's grocery filled arms.

"No worries," Marco said, kindly. "Sasha, let's get this guy to a bench or something."

They managed to shuffle him over to a nearby curb, dropping him awkwardly on his ass. As if his eyes weren't already watering, the pain shot right throuh him, and Jean let out a loud, ugly sniffle. "Ah, fuck." He said, wiping his face.

Sasha knelt next to him, "What happened?" Her brown eyes lit with concern, it almost made him cry harder.

"S'nothing," Jean slurred, curling his knees to his chin. "Really, just... Fuck."

Marco spoke again, his voice gentle. "Sasha, he probably doesn't want to talk about it."

Jean glanced up at him, blinking back his tears. Marco didn't look weirded out, or even like he was going to give Jean pity. He just looked kind, smiling awkwardly at Sasha because his arms were still full of grocery bags, and they were blocking most of his face.

Sasha gave Jean a quick clap on the shoulder, "Okay, but if you're feeling better, I'm aving a party at my place tonight. Drop by, okay?" She smiled brightly, and Jean thought back to the times he'd helped her up after she'd cried. He smiled back.

"I wouldn't miss it," Jean said, starting to stand up. "Sorry about that... Rough night." He rubbed his neck, embarrassed at how pathetic he must have looked.

Marco beamed at him, "I hope to see you at the party, you look like you deserve a night out."

"Shit, that reminds me, we have to pick up Connie!" Sasha yelped, grabbing Marco's elbow. She turned back to Jean, her worries fading. "Please come! We're having potatoes!"

Jean barked out a laugh at the inside joke, and he swore he saw Marco blush at the sound. "Alright, alright, I'll be there."

"Bye, Jean!" Marco called, as Sasha towed him away.

Jean waved back, the throbbing pain in his heart turning into a calm, steady beat. With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked home.

...

Parties at Sasha's place were always pretty wild; Jean remembered last year, Connie Springer, Sasha's best friend, had attempted a keg stand and ended up with a concussion in the hospital.

Heck, Jean had lost his virginity at one of those parties. He didn't even remember her name, but apparently she used to be on the track and field team with Sasha. Jean smirked at the thought of her, maybe he could hook up with somebody else at this party, someone who wasn't gorgeous and half Japanese.

Jean arrived a bit later, when the music in Sasha's house had cranked up, and there were streamers everywhere. Some people where in bundled crowds, some where dancing, and Jean swore he saw a group of people playing Dungeons and Dragons in the corner.

"Jean!" The loud, slightly annoying voice of Connie Springer called out, as he jumped right at Jean with a ridiculous grin. "Glad you could make it, man!"

"Glad to be here," Jean grinned back. He and Connie had always gotten along, and they attended the same high school, so they often sat together during lunch or free period. They were both mutual friends of Armin and Eren, and since he knew Sasha, Jean often saw him outside of school.

Connie's eyes suddenly grew concerned, "I heard about what happened. Dude, if you need anything, I'm here." Connie said, clapping his chest and making a dedicated bro face.

"Thanks," Jean said, lips twitching. "But right now, I just want to have some fun. Any beer?"

"Kitchen!" Connie directed, and he ran off to stop someone from breaking one of Sasha's vases. "Hey! Shithead, put that back!"

In the kitchen, Jean was met by several couples making out. He found the 'punch' bowl, scooping some of it into a plastic cup, and quickly left the smothering enviroment.

In the living room, someone had set up karaoke, and Jean was not surprised to find Sasha there. She had been singing and acting since she could read a script, and Jean supposed the people gathered around the karaoke box where all on the same boat as her.

"Hey," he greeted, sitting on the arm of the couch next to her. Sasha grinned up at him, slapping his knee.

"Alright, Kirschtein is here!" She bellowed, earning some applause from people Jean did not know. "Jean, you should sing!" Sasha giggled, shoving him towards the microphone.

He flushed, "I'm tone-deaf, no thanks." Jean cringed at the memory of the times he'd been forced to sing, his voice was flatter than a ruler.

"It's Marco's turn, anyways!" A random girl said, and Marco stood up from where he'd been curled on the floor. Jean looked at him, smiling a bit.

"Hey," he said, lifting his hand lazily as he sipped his drink.

"Hey, Jean." Marco replied, smiling. It was one of those timid, half smiles, the kind that Jean rarely ever saw. And he pronounced his name right- bonus points.

"Ooh, ooh!" Sasha suddenly sat up, eyes wide and eager. "You should sing Beyoncé!"

Jean almost spat out his drink at how mortified Marco looked, and then the freckled teenager shook his head wildly. "I cannot do her justice!" Marco complained, slapping a hand to his face. "It'd be like trying to redo the Mona Lisa with crayons!"

After a chorus of laughter, somebody suggested that Marco sing something from The Lion King. With a sigh, Marco chose _I Just Can't Wait to Be King_, the drama nerds giggling all the while. When Jean asked Sasha what was so funny, she told Jean Marco was in an online guild where he was a very loyal servant to a king.

"It's not funny!" The freckled boy whined, shooting Jean an embarrassed look. When the music began, and he sighed and turned back to the lyrics. The party was a little loud, and since Marco was obviously mock singing, Jean couldn't tell if he was that good or not. But he still had a nice voice, it wasn't too high or low, and he smiled when he sang.

Jean watched him, slightly captivated. His fingers were itching, and he was almost surprised with himself. He wanted to draw Marco, he wanted to sketch that smile and those freckles.

As the song ended, Marco was applauded by the group (including Jean, who was still a bit spellbound), and he sat down on the couch between Jean and Sasha.

"You feeling okay?" Marco asked, earning a confused look from Jean. He hurried to add, "I mean, I don't want to pry, but you seemed pretty out of shape this morning."

Frowning, Jean remembered Mikasa clinging to him in tears. "It's nothing, I just... this girl I liked..."

"I get it," Marco said, "It looked like a bad break-up."

Sasha leaned over, wagging her brows. "Marco, are you still talking about that jerk who dumped you? Because you know I'll break his legs."

"His?" Jean echoed, tilting his head.

"Yeah," Marco said, sheepishly. "I'm gay."

Huh

, Jean hadn't expected that. But he wasn't one to discriminate, after all, both his boss and co-worker were gay, and apparently, so was the girl he'd blindly loved for two and a half years. "Oh, okay. Cool."

Marco smiled at him, raising an eyebrow. "You know, most people act surprised."

"I'm not most people," Jean snorted, giving Marco one of his sly grins. When Marco laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkled, and Jean was once again struck with the urge to draw him.

The karaoke started up again, and it soon became difficult to have a conversation. Jean got up to mingle elsewhere, and to his surprise, Marco followed him. He didn't complain, and they had soon gravitated to the backyard, where it was much quieter.

"It gets a bit stuffy in there," Marco mumbled, "With all the weed and pizza."

Jean laughed, "You said it... So, have you and Sasha been friends long?"

Leaning against the house, Marco shrugged. "Well, we've been in some classes together, but we never really hung out until last year's play. And we're the leads in the upcoming one, so we've gotten to know each other through rehersals."

"Wait, if you're the leading roles... Have you two kissed?" Jean asked, trying not to laugh. The idea of Sasha kissing someone like Marco amused him.

Marco giggled (he freaking _giggled_). "Well, yeah! We have to practise so we don't end up laughing onstage. Trust me, it's all kinds of awkward. Her breath smells like some new sort of food every day!"

"Ha! I'll bet Connie hates your guts." Jean said, trying to picture the mixed kid screaming in a flurry of jealously as Marco macked on his woman.

"Yeah, he's pretty obvious. I'm shocked he and Sasha aren't together." Marco shook his head, "I guess they don't want to risk the friendship."

Jean nodded, "It'd suck to lose that, they're great friends." He thought of Mikasa again, and looked at his feet. "It would really suck."

Marco peeked at him, smiling in a comforting way. "I like you, Jean. Let's be friends."

"Huh?" Jean leaned back, shocked. "You want to be friends with some weak, lazy asshole like me? You saw me collaspe in the street, and you want to be friends with me?"

"So long as you don't mind my overbearing kindness, yes." Marco said, beaming yet again. "I've been told I'm so nice, it's annoying."

Jean's thoughts went to Armin, and he chuckled. "I need more annoyingly nice people in my life."

They exchanged phone numbers. Jean resisted the urge to text him as soon as he left the party, not wanting to seem clingy. Truth be told, he had never been good at making friends.

But Marco seemed nice.

...

School became slightly more bearable with Marco's texts between classes.

_Sasha just burped the alphabet. I think Conie's in love._

_From: Marco_

Jean coughed laughter into his hand, his science class forgotten.

_lol, he's a lucky guy. but, ew._

_From: Jean_

He hid his phone as the teacher turned around, her boring voice carrying out a dull rhythm. His fingers twitched as his phone vibrated, and Jean fumbled to unlock it. He hadn't beejn this excited to text anyone since... _ever_, really.

_I have to kiss her in rehersals. She just ate a turkey sub with mayonaise. Jesus, save me now._

_From: Marco_

Jean laughed so hard he had to stay after class and help the teacher clean up.


	2. Healing

**_A.N: Woop, update! And for the record, my headcannon Mikasa isn't gay, but whatever I'm just sticking with it. XD_**

* * *

"Soul crushing rejection still hurting?"

Jean groaned loudly into his pillow, and Armin scooted next to him on his bed. The blond hadn't heard from him in a couple days, so he had probably gotten worried. Jean had felt guilty for not telling him anything, but after Mikasa had shot him down, he couldn't find it in himself to approach Armin at all.

"I guess you heard," Jean mumbled, not looking up. He didn't need Armin's pity, especially not now.

Earlier that day, he had seen Mikasa in school. It was the first time he'd seen her since the confession, and Jean hadn't expected it to hurt that much.

But seeing her, walking next to Eren and smiling sweetly, as if she hadn't felt a damn thing, it made Jean feel like complete, and utter _shit_. When Armin had called out to him, he had run off like a little girl, not wanting to face his problems.

Jean knew his mother must have been worried about him, otherwise she wouldn't have let Armin inside, when Jean assumed he'd followed him home.

"You know, Mikasa didn't mean to hurt you-" Armin started to say, but Jean sat up abruptly.

"Just don't, okay? I don't want to talk about it." Jean snapped, ignoring the stab of guilt he got when Armin flinched.

"...I'm sorry," Armin mumbled, then he smiled, changing the subject. "So, you're friends with Marco Bodt, now?"

Jean furrowed his brows, "Huh? How'd you know that?"

"He lives about half a block away from my house, we used to be in a study group together." Armin explained, smiling fondly. "He's a good guy, he mentioned he had a friend that went to my school, and what do you know? It was you!"

Jean flushed, not liking the proud look Armin wore. "I have a life outside of you, you know."

"Sure you do," Armin chuckled, "That's why you only have, let's see-" The blond snatched his phone up from the bedside table, already knowing the password, and he grinned triumphantly. "- seven contacts."

"Shut up, Armin." Jean whined, flopping back into his pillow.

"But I'm happy! You at _least _have seven, now!" Armin teased, and Jean batted at him blindly. Armin laughed again, then leaned back a bit. "I'm serious, Jean... Are you doing okay?"

Jean nodded, sitting back up. "I'm fine, really. It's just kind of hard to see her, you know? She never even considered me, not that she could've, but-" He stopped, uncertain of what he felt. True, Mikasa had hurt him, but it wasn't her fault. "I've been a dick." He said, putting is face in his hands.

"Yeah, but we're used to it." Armin said as patted Jean's shoulder, "And besides, Eren's been rejoicing that you aren't his potential brother in law after all, I don't think he noticed how much of a prick you were being."

Jean looked at him with mock gratitude, "You always know just what to say, Armin."

"It's a gift," Armin grinned, and Jean promptly hit him with a pillow.

...

It was the graveyard shift at work. Levi's shop normally only stayed open to around eleven, but that night, it was packed because of some outdoor concert.

Jean and Berthold fumbled behind the counter, with aid from Erwin and Hanji, some other baristas and Levi's friends. Erwin complained loudly about the amount of people, and Hanji kept mixing orders up. Jean groaned, stirring a frappucino lazily.

"One mocha, please!" A familiar voice piped up, and Jean looked over to find Marco, sweaty and breathless, pushed to the front of the line with a nervous expression.

"Marco!" Jean exclaimed, hurrying over to him and setting the frappucino down. "Dude, what are you doing here?"

Some people behind Marco in line complained, and Jean shot them the middle finger. Marco chuckled, adjusting his shirt collar. "Well, I was kind of swept in here by accident, since the streets are so packed. I figured I may as well get a drink out of it, you know?" He chuckled, then smiled at Jean curiously. "Speaking of which, I believe I ordered something?"

Rolling his eyes, Jean left Marco beaming over the counter to go make him a mocha.

The commotion eventually died down, and Levi closed up shop, allowing Jean to take off his apron and go home. To his surprise, Marco had waited up for him, and was reading something on his phone. When they got outside, Jean asked about it.

"It's the script," Marco explained, holding his iPhone up to Jean's face to reveal a very length e-mail. "I mailed it to myself so I could read up when I get bored."

"_All I wanted was to be loved for myself_," Jean read, frowning. "A bit depressing, isn't it?"

Marco shrugged, "Well, it _is_ a tragedy."

"Who do you play? The Phantom?" Jean asked, and Marco nodded. The cool night breeze blew his hair back, and he shivered a bit. "It's too cold for April." Jean muttered, earning another laugh from Marco.

They finally came to a street where they had to go seperate ways. Marco turned on his heel, giving Jean a look. "Say, do you want to help me memorize my lines tomorrow? Sasha bailed on me since she's going to the movies with Connie."

"Really? But I'm a horrible actor," Jean flinched at yet another traumatic memory of him performing in a kindergarten play. "I'll just read in dumb monotone."

"That's okay!" Marco chirped, "I only need to know my lines, just reading the others back to me is a huge help."

Jean pretended it was hard to consider, "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Marco grinned from ear to ear, and Jean wondered why he experienced palpitations. No one with a smile that dazzling should flaunt it in public. "Great! I'll text you my address, see you tomorrow!" Marco said, waving goodbye before he broke into a jog.

Jean stood still so he could regain his equilibrium.

What the _fuck_ was that?

...

The first thing Jean noticed about Marco's house is that it was huge.

He gaped, his own two story house looked like a mud-hut compared to Marco's. It was twice the length and width of Jean's house, and the yard was gigantic.

"When were you gonna tell me you were rich?" Jean asked the moment Marco opened the door, and Marco laughed.

"I'm hardly rich! My dad and the landlord are close friends, that's all." He looked sheepishly at the house, and lead Jean inside. It seemed even bigger, if that was possible. With high ceilings, clean, white walls with big, framed pictures hanging on them.

Jean resisted the urge to snicker when he spotted one of Marco as a little kid, dressed up in a big, poofy winter coat and playing in the snow. It was freaking adorable.

When they walked up the stairs (the _huge_ stairs) Jean wasn't surprised to find Marco's room neat and organized, with the exception of a few stray items. He sat on Marco's bed, whistling. "Nice place you got here," he commented, and Marco rolled his eyes.

"Come on, I've got to memorize my lines by next friday!" Marco said, tossing Jean a large booklet of paper. "Page thirteen, please!"

Jean skimmed to the page in question, where some guy named Raoul and some girl named Christine where about to make out by her father's rave. He raised an eyebrow, and read dutifully: "'There's not a moment to lose, Christine. Let's leave now, together!'"

Without warning (well, Jean was reading the script but it still shocked him), Marco let out a wail of anger mixed with despair. Jean shivered, because the sound his friend made was downright unhuman.

"..._Marco._" Jean hissed, goosebumps fading. "What the hell was that?!"

"Did it sound scary enough?" Marco asked, putting his fist to his chin and pondering comically. "Or was I too low? Should I go for something with a higher pitch?" Marco asked, and then repeated the sound.

Jean clapped his hands over his ears, "Enough! Enough! The first one was less horrifying!"

"Oh, okay. The second one, then." Marco shrugged, as if letting a sound like that come out of him was a normal thing to do. "Alright, turn to page twenty, please."

Jean did as told, albeit shakily. Marco was pretty terrifying, sometimes.

For the next half hour, Jean read lines dully and Marco returned them with flare. He did a really good job at making Jean believe he was a different person, the aura of happiness vanished whenever Marco got into character. It was kind of spooky, Jean thought, how Marco could do that so simply. At one point he commended Marco on his work and the other teenager told him how he wanted to be in movies, one day.

Normally, Jean thought careers in film where a cry for help. But Marco... he just might pull it off.

"Alright, I think that's enough of my lines." Marco hummed, snatching the script from Jean's hands and grinning. "You were so helpful, mister monotone."

Jean rolled his eyes, "Oh, shut up. I warned you."

Marco sat next to him on the bed, and their elbows brushed. Jean blinked in confusion, wondering why he felt so goddamn happy about brushing elbows with a guy. Marco then said something, drawing him out of his thoughts. "So, I didn't know you knew Armin?"

"Oh, well..." Jean chuckled, "That girl I liked? It was his foster sister, Mikasa." Even saying her name made him ache, but Marco's gape of surprise eased the pain.

"Mikasa Ackerman?!" Marco proceeded to look like a shocked housewife who found out she'd missed her favorite soap opera. "You liked _her_?"

Jean nodded and then sighed. "A lot."

"But isn't she going steady with some blonde girl?" Marco mumbled, and Jean froze.

"What? Who?" He asked, feeling rage boil over. _It certainly didn't take her long to get out there._

"Yeah, I've seen her at Levi's, actually. She hangs around with the tall dude, kinda sweaty...?" Marco trailed off, noticing that Jean looked sick to his stomach.

"She's dating _Annie_?!" Jean hissed, and Marco promptly handed him a pillow to scream in.

"Okay, I was not expecting you _not_ to know that." Marco said, getting to his feet and scrambling across the room. "You draw, right?" He thrust some paper and pens next to Jean's pillow covered face, "Here, doodle something! Just... stop screaming, you sound like a cow on drugs."

Jean sniffled, trying not to laugh, and scowled at Marco before taking the paper with a sour expression. Marco, bless his freckled soul, just laughed.

Before Jean knew what he was doing, he sketched Marco's face, his thin jawline, his average nose, and his weird hair. Marco sat across from him now, only occasionally raising a brow when Jean stole a glance at him for referance.

"Are you drawing me?" Marco suddenly connected the dots, and Jean flushed.

"...Maybe," he said at length, trying to cover his work with his arm. But Marco was too quick, and he held the paper before him triumphantly.

Jean waited, completely embarrassed, for Marco's reaction. Was it weird to draw your friends? Jean had drawn Armin once and Armin had only complained that he looked too girly, but maybe Marco was different. What if he didn't like it?

"Wow you're _amazing!_" Marco said, his brown eyes sparkling with awe. "That's so cool!"

"Huh? You think?" Jean felt himself gush with pride, his heart thumped away with glee. "It's not that good, it's just a sketch-"

"Shush!" Marco's hands shot up and squished Jean's cheeks, "You're awesome, accept it!"

In an attempt to say 'fine', Jean's words came out muffled due to Marco's hands clapped against his face. He met Marco eyes, and he had to say, this wasn't half bad.

They both laughed for about two minutes after that.

...

After that day, Jean found himself drawing Marco more often. He drew Marco almost as much as he drew random girls with long hair.

"Am I your muse?" Marco asked one day, as they were lazing around Jean's house.

Jean merely grinned, closing one eye and sticking his thumb out to map Marco's head. Marco laughed, folding himself into a sexy pose. "_Draw me like one of your french girls, Jack_."

"Ha!" Jean snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth. He and Marco looked at each other between laughs, and his heart throbbed a bit. "Hm... Maybe I should." Jean said, wagging his eyebrows.

Marco rolled his eyes, but kept smiling. "Go ahead, I'm all yours." He stretched while making a ridiculous face, and Jean laughed harder.

It was a bit hard to draw through their excessive giggling, but Jean eventually got Marco's pose done. He even made it look purposefully sexy, shading around Marco's lips.

"I should just hand this out to hot guys," Marco said, looking embarrassed.

"No, you're _my_ model!" Jean said in mock betrayal, and Marco smiled warmly at him.

More weird heart fluttering. Jean must be sick.

He cleared his throat, "Um, want to watch a movie?"

"Sure, what have you got?" Marco scooted closer, and Jean felt himself grow warm.

Whatever. This was totally fine.

...

This was totally not fine.

...

Eren Jeager stood in the doorway, arms crossed, green eyes narrowed, and expression sour. Jean glared back at him, inwardly cursing because he probably should have texted Armin instead of just showing up at his house.

"What do you want?" Eren asked, frowning. He was probably still pissed at Jean for making Mikasa cry; granted it was accidentally, but Eren just needed an excuse to hate him.

"I'm looking for Armin," Jean announced, and Eren's frown deepened.

"...He's out on a study date." Eren said it so bitterly, Jean almost laughed at him.

"Then I'll just talk to you," Jean sighed, and Eren raised an eyebrow. "It's a serious issue, jerk." Jean muttered, and Eren promptly stepped aside to let Jean in.

Armin's house was small, but cozy. Eren lead Jean to his room, hands stuffed in his pockets and muttering bitterly about having to deal with this. Normally, Eren acted like a high spirited boy who was a bit too cocky, but around Jean, he was a grumpy old lady.

"Okay, you have to promise not to tell anybody." Jean said once the doors were closed, feeling slightly regretful he hadn't left the moment he heard armin was out.

Eren immediately changed his attitude, perking up into the good friend he usually was. "I promise," he said, curiously. "But what's wrong?"

"I've only ever liked Mikasa-" Jean started to say, and Eren cut him short.

"Dude, that's my _sister_!"

"Shut up!" Jean snapped, "I'm trying to tell you something!"

Eren let out a groan of complaint, but then he crossed his arms, leaned against the door, and closed his mouth.

"Okay, like I said, Mikasa was the only person I've ever had feelings for." Jean said, ignoring Eren's slightly sickened look. "But, recently, I've been hanging out with someone else a lot, and I feel really fucking weird around them."

Eren blinked, "Weird how?"

"Weird like... I'm happy, which is definitely _not_ normal, and I really like being their friend, but... My chest starts going crazy, and I honestly think I'm having a stroke whenever I'm around them!" Jean rambled, waving his hands around. "What do you think it means?"

"If this is about Armin..." Eren started, his voice low with threat.

"No!" Jean yelled, and then threw up in his mouth a bit. "Dude- _gross_."

Eren seemed to relax, and then he pondered what Jean had told him. "Well, you sound like something out of a cheesy book for twelve year old girls with crushes."

"Ugh," Jean whined, burrying his face in his hands. "I know!" He flopped onto Eren's bed, lying down in shame.

Eren made his way over, sitting next to him. "Do you think you like them?" He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

And then Jean thought about it; he loved it when Marco laughed, and smiled, and how he was afraid of spiders but not bloodthirsty wolves. Jean wanted to see Marco happy, because it made him happy. But in the end, was that really a crush?

"Do you want to bang them at all?" Eren suddenly said, and Jean shot up like a bullet.

Maybe Marco's face would flush when he kissed him, and then his back would arch when he touched him. Maybe he bit his lip when he was turned on.

"Jean!" Eren cried, smacking him upside the head. "Stop that, you look like a tomato!"

"...Fuck," Jean mumbled, clapping a hand over his mouth. Eren looked at him in slight confusion, but Jean ignored it.

_He had a crush on Marco_.


End file.
